The exorcism.

John pressed the buzzer in front of him and cracked his knuckles. He never really liked making house calls, but they paid well, and he needed the money. As much as he tried to control his spending, the cash never really seems to stay in his wallet for very long. Some indulgence will come along, and he would lose all his will to save. And now he was in debt again, for the umpteenth time in his life. All he wanted to do was get the job over with so that he could pay the bloody loan sharks.

He checked inside his coat, making sure that he had all the standard equipment. When he got the call, it sounded like a simple open and shut case. He would walk in, perform his usual hocus pocus and walk away a thousand dollars richer. Not bad for an hours effort. He just wished more of these cases existed.

John didn’t have particularly strong moral principles. He would have cheated his way out of trouble every time if it weren’t for the fact that he was constantly watched over. The irony of the situation was that most people would consider the forces that act as his conscience to be pagan gods that only cared for themselves. Most people considered his practices to be witchcraft and accused him of being an idol worshipper. He didn’t care. They didn’t know what he did, and they couldn’t even begin to understand the rules that he played by.

The door opened. “Ah, Mr. John, you’re here at last.” John raised his eyebrows. This kid hardly looked like someone who needed an exorcism. He was a picture of health, smiling at John as he held the door open. Normally, his clients would greet him with blood-shot eyes and sweat running down their face. They couldn’t walk properly, and sometimes couldn’t even talk properly. John hated those cases. They took him too long to figure out which method to use. “Something is wrong,” John told himself. He couldn’t possibly have the wrong house. The kid had identified him correctly. A trap, maybe? No. The demons he banished didn’t have a grudge against him. He was just doing his job, and they understood that. It was a kind of professional respect, if you will. Never mind his discomfort. He had a job to do.

John stepped into the house and set his briefcase down. “What seems to be the problem here, sir?” he asked.

“You’re an exorcist. What else would I have called you for?”.

“Well, you don’t look like you need my services. It really doesn’t look like anything is wrong at all”

“I don’t look it, but I feel it. I am being haunted.” His client clutched his chest, slightly to the left where his heart was.

“Okay. Can you tell me more about the nature of your visitations?” asked John.

“It normally comes at night, when I’m in bed. My mind tends to drift off into different directions, but I always see her face.”

“Her face? The demon is female then. Is she attractive?”

“Oh, yes. Very. I sometimes think that I’m in love with her”

John scratched his chin and pondered for a moment. A succubus? In this part of the world? There wasn’t quite enough of believers for them to exist in Asia. The sultry demonic seductress just wasn’t well known enough to exist around here.

What most people normally got wrong was the order in which these supernatural things happen. Conventional wisdom was that we believe in them because they exist, when in actual fact, they exist because we believe. People underestimated the power of their own minds. If no one ever though of the demons, they wouldn’t be around at all, but because people felt so strongly about their existence, they subconsciously willed the demons into being. Succubuses were part of Western folklore, and normally only materialized in the Western world. It didn’t make sense that one of them would be haunting his client.

“Let me take a look,” said John. He walked up to his client and placed his hand on the client’s forehead. Closing his eyes, he tried to feel for pulses of supernatural energy that would help him identify the demon in question. But he felt nothing. Frowning, he pushed even harder, straining hard to pick up some clue. Still nothing.

This didn’t make sense. Even the most elusive of demons couldn’t escape detection from him. Could he have met his match?

Then it dawned onto him. Smiling, he took his hand off his client’s forehead. “There is nothing I can do to help you, sir. Your problems have nothing to do with the supernatural or the netherworld. You don’t need an exorcist. You need a shrink.”

“What? What do you mean I need a shrink? I’m not crazy. I’m possessed.”

“Yes. You are quite possessed. But your kind of possession is quite common. In fact, you’re the first person I know who has called an exorcist to deal with the problem. Most people just kill or harm themselves.”

“I don’t follow,” said the client.

John sighed. “That demon that is haunting you. Is she familiar looking?”

“Yes”

“She is very attractive to you and you are in love with her? Is that correct?”

“Pretty much so. What are you getting at?”

“I suspect you know already. You don’t really want this demon to disappear now, do you? You can try to shoo it away all you want, but until you really find that you do not want her around, she is going to be there. Forever haunting you.”

“There is nothing I can do then? I’m doomed to sleepless nights for the rest of my life?”

“Not really. From experience, these hauntings don’t last forever. It takes a while, but it goes away eventually. Just don’t kill yourself. Its pathetic when that happens. I’m not an expert in the field, so I’ll keep my advice to this and only this. Good day to you sir.”

John walked out of the house, half amused at the whole scenario and half annoyed that he couldn’t charge the sorry sod for his counseling.

Longest post ever.

This is one of those posts that seemed to have point to it when I first start out, but soon start to lose momentum. I decided to finish and publish it anyway. Be nice when commenting.

A science is any discipline in which the fool of this generation can go beyond the point reached by the genius of the last generation. – Max Gluckman.

I saw this quote in my thermodynamics textbook, and it vaguely reminded me of something that I read about in Jurassic Park about eight years ago. In essence, it was about how dangerous science could be in the wrong hands. To illustrate that point, Ian Malcolm used the analogy of the martial arts. Both are disciplines, but in the martial arts, you don’t become a black belt without first going through the yellow, green, blue and so on. His contention was that masters of those disciplines got through a long learning process that goes beyond understanding the art of combat. When a master has perfected the art of killing with his bare hands, he has the discipline not to.

But scientists didn’t have to do the same. A new researcher now just has to pick off from where the old retired professor left off. And according to Malcolm, those researchers are not very likely to exercise caution when doing their research. To him, it was like putting an AK-47 in a monkey’s hands and then crudely gesturing to it to pull the trigger. At least that is the link that was made.

I was 13 at that time, and I bought it. I was surrounded by news of pollution and the destruction of planet earth by humans, and blaming science for all of that made a whole lot of sense. It is an overly simplistic way of looking at the situation, I know. But it made sense at that time.

I continued to believe that humans were to be blamed for the destruction of the earth, and that we would ultimately wipe ourselves off this planet.

I believed that, if humans had a purpose, it was the same as the meteor’s. To wipe the slate clean so that the next stage of life may take its place on earth. Life had been reset on Earth a number of times, after all.

That was what I thought of science. Unknowing to the consequences, we have developed technology that we cannot use responsibly. But that’s not the reason for this post. I write this because of the increasing specialization that takes place, not only in science, but everywhere else. Specialization is one of the marks of civilized society, but I really do think that it is taking its toll now.

I was reading the Dilbert blog recently and he was talking about global warming. He said that he was reluctant to write about the matter, seeing that he knew jack shit about it. So he started doing research. And the amount of information that he had to sift through was mind-boggling. Both sides had a story to tell, and both sides chose to tell it in a way that would serve them best (which is obvious). That means using half truths and then telling them as if they meant something. Both sides would use every piece of leverage they could find even if it meant bending the truth. In the end, it makes reading about the subject a pain in the ass. Which is a bit of a problem, since it affects every one of us, and is likely to affect us in this lifetime. There is a lot of money at stake here, and nobody wants to lose out.

If everyone in the world was bothered to research the issue, then this wouldn’t be that big a problem. But the problem now is that a lot of people don’t know that they need to. In the end, if the public were to have to make a decision about global warming, it’s the side with the better PR that is going to win the public vote.

Then there is the courts of law and policy making in governments. Both will have to make decisions about issues that are fundamentally rooted in science, but do not have the knowledge to do so. In the end, they end up relying on expert witnesses and their testimonies, but that might not be enough to get the correct message across. Simplifying scientific ideas into layman’s terms has a dangerous effect of being easily misunderstood and taken out of context. It is my opinion that a president or a jury cannot possibly make an informed decision without first studying the subject extensively. Which in the current world is almost impossible to do, seeing that we have so many disputes to settle, so many decisions to make and so few people who can make them. Expert testimony is all too easily bought or obtained through some shady means. Its just a question of whether or not the stakes are high enough for the respective players to play hard ball.

This ultimately leads to the concept that our legal and administrative systems have their inherent weaknesses. I know that this makes me sound incredibly gullible and naïve, but I had, and probably still have a lot of faith in the laws of the land. I actually believed that the police force would protect me as long as I didn’t break the law. I actually thought that our laws were water tight and would take an effort of monumental proportions to abuse. Apparently, it really isn’t that difficult, no matter which legal system you look at.

This post looks terribly disjointed, but in my head, its all linked. The thought of people misinterpreting science for their own agenda sickens me, but the writing is on the wall. It is really easy to do, given the will and enough resources. And there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. Except bend their own will and resource to combat it when they don’t agree. It ends up becoming a war of attrition in a battle to gain influence. I don’t like the idea that justice sides the one with a lot of money, but apparently, that’s how it works. So excuse me while I get used to this new cynical view of law.

Sued for firing the unproductive.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/6682827.stm

Yep, the Americans did it again. Bringing others to court because of your problems seems to be something that is incredibly easy to do in the states isn't it?

I really don't get it. He surfed for porn when he should have been working. Thats a loss of productivity for the company right there. They should have every right to terminate him, especially since he had already been warned not to continue.

Thats before we even consider the fact that he is a Vietnam war veteran that gets over his war trauma by surfing for porn. Apparently, we are supposed to treat his sex addiction just like drug addiction. His argument is that we sympathize with drug addicts but not sex addicts. IBM is supposedly discriminating against sex addicts.

At the end of the article, BBC asked if companies need to be more sympathetic of addicts. Well, thats a very subjective thing isn't it? If there is a genuine desire to quit, then I suppose the company does have a moral obligation to help out. The stigma with addiction is similar to the one attached to AIDS. Addicts are normally blamed for getting addicted in the first place, the same way people think the AIDS victims are getting what they deserve.

But in this case, we don't know if this man advised IBM of his supposed disorder when they first gave him a warning. If he did, then he might have a case. If he didn't then he's just after a quick $5 million and he can go fuck himself.

I feel strange.

I do. I'm never the kind of person who does stuff. By default, I'd do nothing. I'm a sucker for routine and I hate change more than most people do. In short, I'm not a particularly happening kind of person. Which would give some explanation to the reason I'm in the faculty I'm in.

Because of who I am, my schedules are really easy to keep track of. I never need an organizer, because I'd have nothing to write in it. And that would make the organizer that I have a big waste of paper. Or plastic and metal. Or whatever it is that the organizer is made of. But now, I seem to be losing track more often than not. I make plans that clash with other plans, when in the past, I'd say yes to something I wanted to do without hesitation because it was so damned unlikely that it would interfere with anything.

I wouldn't be writing about this if it felt right. And the fact that it doesn't bothers me. Every way I look at it, it looks like something positive. But it doesn't feel right. Maybe its me warning myself that I might be forcing myself to be something I am not. Or it could just be that stubborn streak that refuses to admit that it is wrong.

Is it really a bad thing? I don't know. I'd like to think that it isn't. And by the looks of all the other practitioners, it is quite the opposite of bad.

Oh well. I still have a lot of that lameness bug in me when it comes to any actual work. Now that is one thing I'd be glad to be rid of.

I suck. Yay exams are ovah!

LOL PWNT. (Wilz wuz here)

The follow-up

Apology eh? Not good enough. I just had to write a follow up letter to the editor. Hopefully he doesn't ignore it.

The apology has been made and for those who were outraged by the sexist remarks made by the two MPs in parliament, it might seem like a victory. But is it really? Have things really been set right?

Sadly, no. There are so many things wrong with the apology. First, it took them seven days to make the apology, only to retract it. When the official apology finally came after day nine, half the apology was about alleged opposition provocation. One can't help but to wonder if the MPs really are sorry for saying what they did. If it really was a slip of tongue caused by opposition provocation, then the apology would have come on the very next day. It doesn't a person nine days to figure out that he or she has been blinded by rage and done something wrong. Unless that person actually believes that no wrong has been committed. Watching the whole saga, one cannot help but to get the impression that the apology was somewhat forced and done grudgingly.

The problems don't stop there. The MP from Kinabatangan has a history of making such remarks. This isn't the first time that he has stirred controversy. It is becoming apparent that there is no changing this mindset that such people have. It is bad enough to have sexist MPs in our parliament, but to have MPs who flaunt their sexist views openly and then expect to get away with it is unacceptable in any democracy.

Datuk Sharizat might think that the two MPs have been punished enough due to the media attention that this issue has generated. To me it looks like they got away with it. It is an unequivocal defeat for those who believe in and fight for women's rights.

A call to arms.

This is the mail I sent to the Star, published on Sunday. It was heavily edited, but still published. If you are half as pissed off as I am about this, and can put a coherent sentence together, then write in as well. Even if it doesn't change anything, it helps good Malaysians out there know that they are not alone in their outrage.


To say that I was disappointed with the light slap on the wrist that the backbenchers in parliament got for the sexist remark would be an understatement of monumental proportions. Reading that article disgusted me and made me ashamed of being Malaysian. Many unbelievable things have been said in Parliament, but this one takes the cake for sheer lack of class and dignity. The thought that such people should represent my interests sends shivers down my spine. The fact that the statement was made at all should be bad enough, but to have the complaint dismissed based on technicality makes the whole situation seem like an attempt to sweep the problem under the rug.

The remarks by Datuk Seri Nazri then made it clear that some of our Parliamentarians are clueless about proper conduct. Play of words? An insult is an insult. If the 'play of words' was racist instead of sexist, it would have caused a huge uproar. Why does an insult that is sexist more acceptable than a racist one?

Letting this transgression go is going to set a very dangerous precedence for ignoring gender equality issues in this country. If a wakil rakyat can get away with insulting women that way, then everyone can.

Here we go again.

I don't know how prevalent this view is, but some parents actually want the NS programme to be compulsory only for boys. Right....

I really don't understand this presistent view that girls cannot deal with physical strain. Sure, they can't lift as much, and can't run as fast or far, but that doesn't mean that they cannot attend national service. Malaysian national service has never been about the army. Graduates from the camps are neither capable or expected to serve in the armed forces. Which means that the precious daughters of these parents will never be thrown into a jungle Steyr AUGs strapped onto them facing enemy fire.

Some might argue that a lot of them were brought up in protected environments and are ill-prepared for the rigours of NS. Well, lots of boys are pampered at birth too.

If this idea makes it to implementation, I would see it as an insult to women. It is an insult that a lot of women are willing to take to make their lives just a little easier. (fine, in this case, a lot easier). But I have said before, taking this insult would mean that you cannot demand equality anymore. Doing so would make you a hypocrite. If women can be allowed the right to demand their rights, then so too do men. If she has a right to ask for equal pay in the workplace, then pincipally, he has a right to demand that she goes through the same kind of shit that society expects him to go through. Unless it can be proven that women are really incapable of doing the kinds of things that they so conveniently avoid doing, they should be expected to contribute as well.

God dammit

My brain won't stop processing. I'm dead tired, but my head keeps popping thought after thought. Just a few hours ago, I felt the most alive that I have been in a really long time. Maybe the high hasn't died down, or maybe its the thought of Chelsea not winning the bloody premier league title. But I can't sleep. And thats weird for me. That hasn't happened in a long, long time.

I just feel like screaming now. I can't even think properly. I'm not sure if I'm making any sense now. But I'm still thinking. God dammit. I think I feel another identity crisis coming along, and I'm not looking forward to it. Bloody hell. I hate making up my mind. I hate making decisions with any form of finality to it. But I hate being in limbo even more.

Piss.

God damn it.

Its a freakin miracle.

I dunno how it happened, but it did. 4 hours of drilling, screwing and bolt tightening led to the creation of a functional garage door for the Micro-P project that we have to do.

Why is it amazing? Well, because we hardly used the bloody ruler. Which is fucked up when you think about it. Everything was done by visual estimation. And it actually turned out alright.

I was so certain that something was going to go horribly and unrepairably wrong, but it didn't. Whatever little problems we faced, we dealt with fairly easily.

And the bloody contraption was built the very same way I write my essays. I have a general idea about what I want to say, but I never actually plan the whole thing out. I improvise along the way. Except that planning everything on paper is standard procedure for an engineering design process. Obviously, we can't plan for everything, but a certain amount of forethought is normally given. What we did was to come up with a new idea whenever we saw a problem. A problem that would have been avoidable if we had just given it a bit more thought.

Anyway, the thing works fine, so I'm happy. The gears actually meshed, and thats a real relief.

Little green book.

Heh. I found it. I thought I had lost it forever and for a while, I felt a bit annoyed at myself. But then again, I'm not the type who dwells in nostalgia. So I shrugged the loss off. My reliance on sheer neuron power for such tasks will probably take a toll in the future, especially when I'm required to reproduce parts of my life and I have no artifacts to jog the memory or to prove anything I say. But thats a worry for when I'm 60.

Anyways, I found the book. When I first started writing it, I told myself that I'd probably look back at the stuff I wrote and laugh. I was right. Partially. If that book had remained lost for a longer time, and then showed itself, say 5 years from now, my assumption would probably be true. But I guess looking at it now could only result in me smiling a crooked smile and feigning indifference, even if I have no audience. Fooling one's self is a complicated process, and if I can't even fool those around me, then there is no point even trying.

Burning the book is an interesting option, though one that I would probably regret at some point. Plus, its Earth day. No point in any unnecessary burning.

So it remains on the shelf. There is a half-hearted attempt at preventing trespassing, in the form of a written warning on the inside of the cover. That warning is pretty pointless now. The stuff in there will probably make anyone puke after reading 3 lines anyway.

Feminists, may I introduce you to your worst nightmare.

Post deleted due to its potentially contraversial nature. If you really are interested, please contact the blogmaster.

How male or female are you?

Pretty stupid question eh? Male is male, female is female. Even in the mind. Gender differences in the brain are pretty well documented, and while not always true, provide a pretty good basis on which we can make assumptions. But then guys can have female brains, and girls can have male ones. (Oh, I've seen them. Makes very good thought fodder).

So, I was mucking about on BBC when I saw this test to tell you just how male or female you are. I normally don't do these tests, and even if I did do them, I'd be too embarrassed to admit that I did them. But this is BBC. It had to be somewhat credible.

The test itself took something like 20 mins to complete. And I learned that I have a very much male oriented brain. Slightly above average spatial ability, full marks for rotating 3D objects in space, but hopeless with finding words (a bit of a surprise there) and utterly useless when it comes to empathy (fit right into the stereotype).

But the one big surprise was the eye emotion matching test. I scored 9 out of 10. Thats a good deal further away from the average female (who is supposed to be good at this). I can tell what a person is feeling just by reading the eyes.

Seeing these results makes me think that I have the faculties to show empathy. I just don't do it. All this while, I thought I was just mentally handicapped in that area. I wasn't particularly ashamed about being cold and uninvolved. It was just who I was. Sometimes I got to thinking about whether or not caring for others is part of humanity but with examples of perfectly respectable people being just as cold (my own paternal grandmother and Kimi Raikkonen to name two), that problem didn't bother me all that much. I've sometimes wondered if having the principal of one of the most successful private schools in the country as a role model has turned me into what I am. It probably has, but to what extent, I don't know.

As things stand, life seems to be screaming to me that whatever I am right now just will not do. Its telling me "Sure, you'll survive, but you're not going to be happy with mere survival now are you?". Its a raging debate, one that status quo is having a fairly comfortable time with. The only problem now is, there is no end to this, and it doesn't look like the reformists are letting the case go that easily.

Nothing to write about.

Seriously, I can't really find anything that I would be bothered to put on this blog anymore. Heck, I can't even remember the blog post I made. Not to say that nothing happened during my one month hiatus, just nothing worth reporting.

I suppose now that I actually find myself before a computer with the option to post open to me, I'll mention a few things. First up, stress. Assignments galore, and ones that matter too. Not the usual engineering 'here, do this question' token assignments that I normally get. Actual meaty assignments that cannot be copied and must be worked on. Still on the topic of stress, mid-terms. They suck, and getting one a week is annoying. The barrage has stopped, thankfully. (Which is why I am typing this in the first place.)

Now, F1 in Melaka. And Command and Conquer 3. Fun. Nuff said.

Actually, this is like proof that I don't need to write. Writing is not my release. Never really has been. Talking is more of my thing actually, and I think I tend to talk even when no one really cares about what I am saying. I recently had this strange idea about the differences between the 'emo' people and the 'calm' people. Its badly undeveloped and probably already well researched by proper scientists. Then I had this idea about reclassifying marriages since there are so many kinds and so many purposes that go with marriage. (While we are at it, might as well create a distinction in the English language between the many kinds of love that people feel). I guess in the past, those things might have been considered blog material worthy. Not anymore.

Loss of identity, life changing experiences. I suppose those are the only things that will actually make time to blog about. Which brings me to the question of whether or not its loss of identity that caused this indifference to writing. Or am I just indifferent, period?

Relief

Geez.. How I could have completely forgotten that the lab sessions on Wednesday start at 9am is beyond me. But I did. And I thought that I had 10am class on that day. So as I looked at the timetable, I felt like killing myself. Especially since the lecturer who is coordinating the subject has reminded us that we have to make formal application for lab session transfers. I was late, so no such reprive. I could only hope that the other lecturer tasked to teach the subject would be the supervisor today. I think I might have mentioned him in this blog before. L!m is his name.

As luck would have it, he was the lecturer in charge today. Still, I wasn't expecting an easy time. I went up to him, said I was sorry. Before I could go on, he said to replace on Friday. He hardly even blinked. No show of disappoval or displeasure. He just asked me to come another day. Its really quite hard to express the kind of relief I felt when I heard him say that. I really didn' want to get barred from this subject.

So, here is to Dr. Lim. A truly practical man whose priorites lie in getting the job done and not in the bloody anal world of protocols and procedures.

Call me a bitch.

Interestingly enough, this article appeared not long after I saw the book "Are men really necessary". Written by Kate Figes, the article takes a look at how strong, independent women who are not afraid of giving their opinions are considered bitches.

I liked the article, and I think that she is mostly right. As much progress as we have made, women are still expected to be the docile types. I honestly do not think that its the brashness or the opinions that make men (and women alike) label these loud women bitches. Its only when they feel threatened that it happens. Women can say anything and have nothing negative happen to them, as long as they are wrong. But the moment they are right, they start to threaten people who are already very comfortable in their positions, and that will quite easily spark name calling. Its not being sexist. Its survival instinct.

Its not to say that calling talented women bitches can be justified in anyway. I would echo the author's call to continue being outspoken in a heartbeat. Too often, are people who speak their mind considered 'nasty' or 'not nice'. I should know. What I do find interesting is that the author makes a distinction between a good bitch and a bad one. The bad bitch is the manipulative, self serving individuals that tear others down so that they can feel good. The good one speaks her mind and stands up for herself. I don't, however see any link between the two kinds of bitches. Both are described with the same word, but are mutually exclusive. The author says that women have no guidance to change from a weak and bad bitch into a strong and good one. I disagree. There is no transition. A woman can be both, and can be neither. Both those types of characters inspired some kind of anger. It really is no surprise that both are called the same thing. The word bitch is used out of hate, much like the word fuck. And the word fuck is now used to describe so many things, its confusing. But most people who use the word are not referring to sex, although technically, thats what fuck points at.

And then there is the bit that says 'real women are loud, brave and outspoken'. Bullshit. Real women are no more loud, brave and outspoken than real men are muscular, chivalrous and well hung. Being loud is something that some people are. Some people are just less eager to express opinions. That doesn't make them any less masculine or feminine than other people.

Run.. For what?

He shuffled his feet on the spot. As he looked around, everyone was doing the same.

Everyone.

Familiar faces, and complete strangers, all had a look of intensity. He shrugged and kept shuffling. A few cycles later, he started stretching. He felt a little self-concious in his shorts but he didn't want to show it. There would be no signs of weakness from him.

The air horn went off. It was time. He got down onto the ground and went into position. His fingers were firmly planted on the ground, his legs pushing and straining, willing to be released. The pistol went off, and he ran.

He kicked the ground hard, willing his legs to carry him faster. His breath came in short, ragged breaths, his body producing more lactic acid as time passed. But he ran on. And on.

Then he noticed something. Nobody else was running. Even if they were, they were not running against him. They weren't running against anyone. They ran alone, oblivious to their surroundings. The rest were just ambling along, quite unfazed by the sight of their opponents rapidly reaching the finish line. He looked harder. There was no finish line. The white tape that he saw had disappeared. The red gravel that paved the floor was gone too. And so was the field.

He slapped himself. This couldn't be happening. All his life, he had been running this race. Or rather, he thought he had. But there was no race. There is no competition. There was no one to beat, and there certainly was no champion or gold medal.

He was confused, so he did what he always did. He sat down to think. As hard as it was to accept, he finally came to realize that the race really had been a figment of his imagination.

Now all he had to do was to stop the urge to run. Especially when he saw someone else start.

The illusion that choice equates happiness.

Its one of the more interesting concepts that I have come across when watching videos of really smart people talking. It actually makes a lot of sense.

Naturally, a complete absence of choice is never a good thing. The flavour text on one of the Magic the Gathering cards reads "Options will cost you, but the lack of them will cost you even more." I am in complete agreement. But there really does come a point where we have too much choice.

Choice is viewed like money. The more, the better. It almost seems like we can never have enough choice to work with. The more options we have, the more likely we would be able to get it perfect, right? Maybe. Very smart people have observed that with too much choice, comes paralysis. We don't make a decision because we are afraid of making a wrong one. With so much to choose from, its easier to screw up. I could go on to explain just why this is so, but I won't.

The thing that I really want to talk about is the fact that a lot of Malaysian parents tend to tell their children that they are really lucky. Why? Because they can choose whatever career they want nowadays. Lucky? Its not really that simple.

The fundamental assumption that these parents have is that their children will be free to choose a path that will leave them happy. When you get to do what you like for a living, then you are happy right? As a general rule, I suppose you could say yes. But children are to make that choice at a very specific point in their lives, whether they are ready to do so or not. Some people screw that up. This is where kids nowadays are worse off than their parents.

When their parents ended up doing whatever it is they do, they were forced into that line of work by circumstance. Life screwed them over. Blame your lousy luck and move on. When a kid now ends up in a field that he hates, the only one to blame is himself. And when you start feeling like your life sucks, and its all your fault, its a lot harder to get on with life. A really long line of 'what ifs' will start to appear. What if I had done this instead of that? What if I hadn't been so hasty? These are things that the parents never had to deal with. And most of these parents ended up being fairly well off themselves.

So its true that the millions of courses that are available now are a good thing. But only if you can deal with it. If you can make a choice and never look back, then its fine. But if you are going to live life mired in regret, then you are better off getting someone to tell you what to do for a living.

If women ruled the world.

That’s something that I have always grappled with. I’ve always been curios about what it would be like if most of the world wasn’t patriarchal. What if the situation was reversed?

As a child, I was under the impression that if women ruled the world, we would have many fewer wars. Shooting someone you don’t agree with just seems like such a typically male response to things. Besides, weapon design is just something that guys do. Its not to say that women wouldn’t be able to develop incredibly destructive devices if they wanted to. Its just that the compulsion to destroy and blow things up is not quite wired into them. The same way that women generally don’t see the need to build a machine that can travel at 250 miles an hour. There is a difference between a designer with passion and a designer who is doing his/her job. A man will build a gun with a gleam in his eye. A woman will do it to get a chore out of the way. So, no guns, fewer wars right?

Maybe. Maybe not. Women might have less violent approaches to conflict resolution, but that doesn’t mean that they are any less likely to enter conflict. Differences in opinion will reach boiling point, and how an entire planet of female leaders will respond is something I’ve always wondered about. We can’t take examples of past female nation leaders for two reasons.

The first, is that any female leader who comes into power she already has guns at her disposal, backed by a bunch of testosterone filled male generals. What I am interested in is a world that is matriarchal in nature. A world where the entire cabinet is made out of women, the same way many cabinets in the world now are filled with men. How would they respond to the cultural clashes and religious feuds that are bound to crop up?

The second is that any female leader who has risen up the ranks in the past have done so by emulating their male colleagues. They is something very masculine about them. Margaret Thatcher wasn’t known as the iron lady for no reason. I don’t know Helen Clarke all that well, but judging from the way the Australs debaters spoke about her, I don’t think she is all that different. What I would like to see is a woman in power who deal with a situation like a typical woman would. I’m having a very hard time imagining what that would be like.

There will probably be a lot fewer explosions. Fewer ripped limbs. Fewer dramatic images of mothers grieving in front of rubble left behind after a bombing. But I cannot believe that the absence of bullets will equate to the absence of suffering.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say with this post. To be honest, even if I knew the answers to the questions I have asked, it wouldn’t matter, since that world is about as real as a typical Malaysian is punctual. Its just something I think about when I have nothing better to do.

To be or not to be.

Wandering the street, the boy looked lost,
Blank faced, he looked, but didn’t see,
He wandered aimlessly, almost stumbling with every step,
His listless eyes wore no expression, refusing to commit.

The person that he was, the person that he is,
The person that he wants to be, and the person he is going to be,
All stand divided, all mirror images,
Similar on the outside, until you read the eyes.

There is little doubt where the fracture came from,
But the question of why has yet to be answered,
The answer might stare him in his face,
But unless acknowledged, it will not register.

The clarity of the past cannot be regained,
The neatly drawn lines have all but faded,
Black and white have tainted one another,
Pleasant simplicity replaced by gnawing self doubt.

His state might be confusing, but not particularly unpleasant,
But for one like him, it must not last,
The options are open, and he may have to choose,
Or perhaps he could sustain them all after all.